Wednesday, March 14, 2007


"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As a plastic base and painted eyes:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of GI Joe;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with Barbie's Dreamhouse;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the Bratz mobile
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth Tickle Me Elmo;
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful Wild Berry Splash Kool-Aid.
Now set the teeth and stretch the Armstrong,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good plastic soldiers,
Whose limbs were made in Taiwan, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your plastic; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, Mattel, and Saint George!'

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